You're Fired!
by Manic Mundane
Summary: Stan screws up big time and is fired from work. Now he's jobless and can't support his family. Oh teh noes! What will the Smith family do? Probably try to help Stan get his job back, duh. Action-Comedy just like the show. Language and Violence are in it.
1. Chapter 1: Stan's Mistake

Why is Stan never fired? Yes, he _can_ do his work at times. But he frequently messes up. "So," I thought to myself "what would happen if Stan was fired from the C.I.A.?" And thus "You're Fired" was born. Note: I don't own American Dad! Because Seth McFarlane does. He also owns Family Guy and the Cleveland Show. But I _do_ own the American Dad! Volume 1 through 5 DVD sets.

* * *

"You're Fired!"

Chapter 1: Stan's Mistake

* * *

"You'll never win, C.I.A. Man." said the terrorist as Stan pointed his pistol at him.

"I wouldn't be so sure, Abdul Javaris-Shakara-Huissane-Bin Laden-Hakim! You don't have any weapons. So I'm gonna win!" Stan said back.

"I wouldn't be so sure yourself, silly American!" said the terrorist and he pulled out a Scimitar from his pocket and charged directly for Stan.

"Hey...how'd...you...get...that?" Stan asked, his words separated by dodging each slash.

"Hammerspace." said the terrorist as he stopped to explain to Stan "Care for some tea? It's kind a long explanation."

"Sure. I'll take a cup." said Stan as they stopped their fight and sat down at a tea table that had just appeared out of nowhere. The terrorist handed Stan his cup of tea "Thank you, my good man. Now, what is 'Hammerspace'?"

"Well," began the terrorist "you see, it's this magical dimension. And, no, it's not in our Muslim Religion." The terrorist said right as Stan opened his mouth to ask a question.

"How'd you know that-"

"That you'd ask that? You Americans are so predictable. Anyway, it's not in the Muslim Religion. Anyone can use it. They just have to know how. Like, have you ever seen in a cartoon when, like, say Bugs Bunny or someone is hiding behind a skinny pole and the other side of their body doesn't appear because it's concealed even though the pole isn't wide enough to conceal the whole other side of their body?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that's Hammerspace."

"Oh."

"I see you're starting to get it."

"I am." Stan replied, taking a sip of his tea.

"Great. And have you ever seen anyone pull something out of their pockets that way too big or too long to fit in their?"

"Yeah. I saw you do that just a minute ago." Replied Stan, taking another sip of his tea.

"Well," the terrorist started, but took a big sip of his tea "Aah. Sorry about that, my mouth's a little dry from talking so much."

"No problem, friend."

"Anyway, that's also Hammerspace."

"Wow." Stan looked amazed and he finished his tea.

"Yep. Refill?"

"Nah, I don't want to have too much."

"Okay then, more for me." the terrorist said and poured some more tea into his teacup.

"Okay, I get it now. But how do I use it?"

"Well, you just have to focus your mind really, really hard. And then you can do it." he finished his tea.

"That's so interesting. I'll try to do it sometime."

"No, my idiotic American slimeball of a friend, you won't."

"Oh yeah? Why not?"

"Because I'm going to kill you!" and just like that his scimitar was inches away from decapitating Stan.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

Stan focused deeply and reached into his pocket. His gun was on the floor and he had no way to stop the terrorist. Hand-to-hand combat would work because the terrorist could take his gun and shoot him with it. So Stan was going to use Hammerspace to his advantage.

"What are you doing?" asked the terrorist.

"Using what I learned." Stan replied and he pulled out a small Sub-Machine Gun.

The terrorist looked surprised and frightened. But that look disappeared, along with all other emotions because Stan had just shot the terrorist in the chest about seven times. Three bullets had hit the terrorist's heart. And then the terrorist collapsed, dead.

And his hat fell off to reveal that the beard was fake and attached to his hat. Underneath was short brown hair and...caucasian skin? It was a fellow C.I.A. Agent and Stan was just in a pretend situation that he wasn't aware of. He had just killed a fellow Operative. He was now in deep shit.

He was completely shocked...and a little happy because now he could use Hammerspace to his advantage. But both of those turned to fear when he heard the voice of his superior, Avery Bullock.

"SMITH!" Bullock shouted Stan's name loudly "What the hell were you thinking? This was a preperation test. Just to make sure you could knock him out and also learn about Hammerspace. And instead you KILLED HIM? And it was Dooper, too! You know he's my favorite."

"But sir, I-"

"YOU'RE FIRED!" Bullock's voice echoed all across the building.

"Did you hear that, Dick?" asked Jackson.

"Yeah, it sounds like Stan totally messed up this time." replied Dick.

"He was a hell of a good agent. Kinda sad to see him go, eh?"

"Yeah, I guess. But at least he won't bother us anymore."

"Yeah. So...uh, how about those Phillies?"

"Heard they won again."

"Yep."

"Mmm-hmm."

Stan slowly trudged home. Dressed in normal clothes. A plan, white t-shirt and denim jeans with black shoes. No C.I.A. suit and no gun. He looked absolutely devastated.

"Stan? You're home early today." Francine observed him "Wait, you look different. Did you get a haircut?"

_My wife, the idiot._

Stan thought to himself before he finally spoke "No, hon, I didn't get a haircut."

"Well, then what?"

"I'm in civillian clothing."

"You mean normal people clothes?"

"Stan nodded in an assuring way.

"But, why?"

"I was fired from the C.I.A."

"Fired? Why?" Francine was absolutely shocked. Sure Stan had messed up before. Almost ended up causing mass destruction a few time. Actually _did_ cause mass destruction a couple times. But he had _never_ been fired from work before. Never. Not once.

"I forgot I was only in a practice situation and killed Dooper by accident."

Francine finally understood. "Oh," she said "I get it now. You were so jealous of him being better than you at everything, you just snapped. It's okay, I undertsnad. It's happened to me before. Why do you think I killed Gwen. Because she was ugly?"

"You killed hot Gwen?"

"Yes, and that's why. You find her more attractive than me."

"That's because she's Asian."

"Well, she's not smart."

"Neither are you." Stan muttered in a sotto voice.

"What was that?"

"Nothin."

"You're damn right nothing. Don't you sass me." she took a big step forward and tripped and fell on the wooden coffee table. "Damn it! That hurt! I'm always hurting myself on that coffee table! Ouch! Am I bleeding? I think I'm bleeding. Call the hospital!"

Then the children and Roger came running down the stairs.

"Are you alright?" Haley asked.

"We heard yelling and a crashing noise." Steve explained.

"Were you fighting again? Are you done. You look done. Damn it! I missed a fight again! And I _still_ don't have a video camera yet! It's all your fault, Klaus!" Roger went on another pointless rant and blamed Klaus again.

"Me? What did I do?" Klaus asked innocently.

"You're a Nazi!"

"No I'm not. Oh Hitler, please save me now und guide me to the promised land."

"You see?" Roger yelled to everyone.

"No we weren't fighting." Stan explained "I was fired and Francine fell again."

"Oh, alright then." Roger said "Franiel, you alright dear?" he saked although he didn't care at all.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I think I'm bleeding, though."

"You're not bleeding!" Stan yelled.

"Dad was fired?" Steve asked.

"Yes, Steve, I was fired! Way to go! Way to realize something I just said two minutes ago!"

"Everyone clam down!" Francine screamed "Stan was fired and we have to get jobs to support our broke family because he can't hold a job."

"I can't, either!" Haley said, over reacting.

"That's because you're a lousy stoner!" Stan yelled at her.

"Quiet! Everyone just calm down and gather around the couch. I'm sure you'd all like an explanation." Francine announced to the family.

"I wouldn't." Roger said to her.

"Too bad!" she yelled back.

* * *

Now that they're reviewing what had happened, let's take a break from this chapter. A permanent break. And by that I mean that this chapter is over. But fear not! The next chapter is soon to be coming. So, stay tuned to see everyone's reactions to Stan's being fired and how they're going to try to fix this problem. And their horrible failure. Wait, I've said to much. Will they fail horribly? Find out in the next chapter of "You're Fired!". See you there, or not.


	2. Chapter 2: A Stan Without A Job

I've planned this story out. It will have 3 chapters. The first chapter was Stan getting fired. The second chapter (this one) is about Stan getting a new job and subsequently being fired. The third (and final) chapter will be about Stan deciding to get his job back at the C.I.A. and then getting his old job back. Also, Roger will play a big role further along. So, here's chapter two. I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

You're Fired!  
Chapter 2: A Stan Without A Job.

* * *

Stan sat at the barstool. He was at Roger's Place, the bar Roger owned. Located in the Smith's attic.

"Another round, Roger."

"Don't you think you've had enough."

"I'll tell you when I've had enough!"

"No. No you won't. Leave. Leave now. Now, damn it!"

"No. I don't wanna leave!"

Roger pulls out a baseball bat, screams like a maniac and charges directly at Stan. Roger hits Stan in the head with the bat, knocking him out.

"Whoopsie."

Roger took Stan's unconcious body and hid it behind the bar table, hoping no one would ever see it.

"Wait, what am I thinking. It's a bar in the attic of someone's house. Who would ever see this besides the family?" Roger then shrugged and continued hiding Stan's unconcious body.

* * *

Three hours had passed and Stan awoke, surrounded by the rest of the Smith family.

"Oh thank god you're okay, honey." said Francine.

"Yeah we thought you were dead." Haley added.

"You drank too much and passed out." Roger said, hoping Stan wouldn't remember what had happened before he blacked out.

"We have to find you a job. We can't find any and we're almost broke." said Francine.

"Oh, what's the use. I'll just screw up again. Let's face it, I'm a failure." said Stan.

Francine sighed "Well, I guess I'm going to have to take that job as a stripper...or start selling drugs again. Either way."

* * *

A few weeks had passed and the family had absolutely no luck in finding a new job for Stan and no other family member could hold a decent job because _something_ always seemed to go wrong.

But as Stan walked down the street, he saw an oppurtunity. A "Help Wanted" ad in the window of Red State Grocery store.

"This could be it." Stan said with excitement.

"You're hired." said the grocery store's manager, Earl.

"Thank you...Earl, I promise you won't regret hiring Stan Smith." Stan replied with glee.

"I bet I won't, I bet I won't." Earl gave Stan a creepy look, but quickly stopped when he saw Stan's odd expression and quickly went to the manager's room.

Stan went to his post behind the register.

A few more weeks had passed and Stan was doing great at his new job. He was even looking towards a promotion.

But soon an unexpected disaster would strike and it would take Stan by surprise and end up taking his new job as well as the life of Earl the manager.

For one day, a couple of men walked into the store.

Both wore black shirts with unzipped black leather jackets over top and tan pants with black shoes. Each wore a ski mask of a different color. They both had one hand on a burlap sack and the other in a pocket of their jacket, as if holding something. They each had a few unique traits to them.

One was tall and slender and wore navy blue colored ski mask.

The other was shorter and a little stocky. He wore violet colored ski mask.

"Afternoon, gentleman, what can I do ya' for?" asked Stan, not even noticing that these two were robbers. Or maybe he did and was just denying it because he wanted to keep his new job so badly.

"Yeah, um, we'd like all the cash in your register." said the short one pulling out a handgun from his pocket.

"Sorry, but we only take cash. We don't give it."

The tall robber also pulled out a handgun from his jacket pocket and both robbers pointed their gun at Stan, ready to fire.

"Easy, fellas. The manager's right in the other room. I could just scream and he'd be out here like that." Stan snapped his fingers to demonstrate how fast the manager could exit from his room and put a stop to this.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah...?"

Oh yeah?"

"No! Earl! Earl!"

Unfortunately for Stan, Earl was asleep at his desk. With his ears blocked by headphones that were blasting classic rock. Earl was in no position to hear or save Stan at all.

The robbers were ready to fire.

"Look, the register only opens when a sale is made. If you want the money, you'll have to buy something. Please?"

"Alright, fine." said the tall one. He looked through the candy isle.

In a minute he came to the desk and slapped a package of Skittles onto the table "I'll have these. Now open the god damn register."

"Yes, sir."

Stan opened the register after checking out the Skittles and gave the robbers every last penny in there and gave the tall one his package of Skittles.

"Thanks a lot," began the short one "Chump!" and he shot three bullets directly at Stan while the tall one shot out all of the surveilance cameras.

Stan was quick enough to dodge the three oncoming bullets, but they went right through the wall and a scream was heard.

It was Earl.

But Stan didn't have time to check on Earl, he had to chase down the robbers who'd already made a run for it.

Frustrated, Stan hit the silent alarm and wrote a note as fast as he could. He put the note on the table and ran after the fleeing robbers.

By the time they thought they were home free they were police sirens, but the cops were headed for the grocery store.

"Ha! It looks like that dumb checkout guy was a little too late." said the tall robber to his partner in crime.

"Yeah, the big ape!" replied the short one to his tall friend.

But just then, a figure came rushing at them at a fast speed. It was Stan and he was mad. Mad and determined. He wasn't going to be played a fool by some two-bit robbers like these two. Not today. Not ever.

Meanwhile, the police discovered a note.

It was from Stan.

_Dear police officer(s) who find this note,_

_This store was just robbed. The manager was shot and injured and possibly killed. I, the cashier at this fine establishment, have gone chasing after the robbers myself. In the meantime, I suggest you check on the manager and get him to a paramedic as soon as possible. If I do not return, do not let my death go in vain. Tell the rest of my family, the Smith family, that I died a hero._

_Sincerely, Stan Smith._

"Come on, we better check on the manager then." said one officer to another and the other other nodded in agreement.

They opened the door to Earl's office.

* * *

The robbers yelled continuous insults at Stan.

"Your mother's a whore!" yelled the short one.

"You'll never live up to anything, you worthless fagget!" the tall one yelled.

But this only encouraged Stan.

Encouraged him to kill these two assholes once he got his hands on them.

The officers were too late, however.

Earl was already dead.

The three bullets had hit his torso and, when one officer saw the entrance-wounds up close, one had hit his heart and killed him.

"We better wait until the cashier comes back."

"But what if he doesn't?"

"Well, if he doesn't come back within thirty-five minutes...then we'll have to assume he's dead."

"And call his family? He wrote his family's phone number on a seperate piece of paper."

"Yeah. We'll have to. I'd hate to hear their voices when they find out though."

"Yeah, it always sucks to lose someone you care about."

The officers were giving each other looks. They were obviously gay. For each other. And I won't describe what happened next other than the fact that they shared a kiss or two.

* * *

Stan was inches away from catching the robbers.

He managed to grab the tall one by his coat tails, causing him to trip and drop his Skittles.

Stan shoved the robber hard against a wall, knocking him out.

Stan also managed to grab the Skittles before they crashed onto the ground.

And he tucked the Skittles into the pocket of his denim jeans.

Then Stan ran after the short robber.

The short robber took numerous paths as shortcuts.

Dirt paths, jumping over fences, through alleyways. All in an attempt to cnfuse Stan and get him off his tail.

But Stan was too determined to let confusion stop him now.

He rushed up right behind the short robber and tackled him to the ground.

Now on top of him, Stan punched him in the back of the head until he was knocked out.

Now knocked out, the robber was no threat.

Stan picked up the robber's unconcious body and rushed back to the tall robber.

Stan picked up his body, too. Then he rushed back to the general store.

Only when he walked into the store, he found the two cops making out.

"Ahem." Stan got their attention.

They looked at him and then at each other and they're faces turned red with embarassment.

"Sorry about that. Are those the robbers?"

"Yeah. They're unconcious."

"Okay then."

The cops slapped the handcuffs on the unconcious robber and hauled them away in the back of a police car. While they hauled Earl in a bodybag and into the back of a hearse and sent him off to the morgue.

Stan wouldn't be able to keep his job now with no boss.

What would he do?

* * *

So there's chapter two. I know I left this as a cliffhanger, but don't worry. The third and final chapter will be coming in one week. So stayed tuned for chapter three, coming December 7th. And remember, I don't thrive on reviews. So if you want to review, go ahead. I'm not going to force you. Exogorth out.


	3. Chapter 3: The Return of Stan

Well, here it is. The third and final chapter of "You're Fired!". Read and enjoy.

* * *

You're Fired!  
Chapter 3: The Return of Stan.

* * *

Stan was sitting on the curb outside the store, waiting for his new boss.

The store was scheduled for a new boss a few days ago, a man named Orgilep Natas (pronounced Ore-Jill-Ep Nay-Tuss), but he wouldn't be able to arrive until today.

Mr. Natas was tall, very skinny and lanky. He had incredibly pale skin, long fingers and long, claw-like fingernails that seemed to not have been trimmed in ages. He had dark circles under his gray eyes, a hooked nose and a frown that never seemed to go away. He wore a long black trench coat over a black t-shirt, black khakis and black boots. His hair was black and also very long, down to waist, and was tied into a single long braid from the back of his neck and down to his waist. His bangs were always parted, the left side had them longer than the right, and had two cow-licks right above his ears that gave the vague appearance of devil horns. He wore glasses and his eyebrows formed an almost permanent scowl. He almost never spoke, but when he did it was in a quiet, low-pitched, yet somehow soft and soothing voice. His records stated that he had formerly been arrested for murder, but that he had apparently been rehabilitated.

"Good to see you, Mr. Smith." Natas spoke in calm voice. "I've heard many good things about you from your previous boss." He reached his hand out, waiting for Stan to grab on for a handshake.

Stan reached out his hand and shook Mr. Natas'. "With all due respect sir, he was a great man. Although he did seem to be just a little nice to me, kind of creepy." Stan spoke.

"Well, it's no surprise. You once worked for the C.I.A. That's quite impressive. Whyever did you leave?" He drew out that last sentence with a wicked smile upon his face, replacing his usual frown.

"Uh, I was fired."

"Fired? I find that quite hard to believe."

"No, it's true. I messed up big time."

"I'm so very sorry." Mr. Natas said almost ironically, as he didn't appear to feel even _remotely_ sorry for Stan.

"Well, it doesn't matter now."

"Anyway, I am your new bosssssss." He drew out the last letter in his sentence, making the sound of a hissing snake. "My name is Orgilep Natas, perhaps you have heard of me somewhere before?"

"Weren't there some murders back a few years ago?"

"Why yes, yes there were. But that's all behind me now."

"Glad to hear it?"

"I should think so."

Stan cocked an eyebrow.

"I'll tell you more once we're inside, the sunlight is hurting my eyes."

"They make magnetic shades you can attach to the lenses of your glasses for just that purpose."

"I cannot afford them right now." He almost sounded like he was lying.

"They're not that expensive."

"Let us just go inside now."

Mr. Natas pushed Stan inside the store and quickly followed, staring at the sun and turning his head, wincing in pain.

* * *

Natas drew the blinds and lowered a cover on the door, covering its glass windows. It was now dark in the store.

"There, that's much better. Don't you agreeeeeeeeeee?" He drew out the last letter in his sentence once more, only it didn't make a hissing sound. There was no "S", so it just made a sound that sounded almost like creaky floorboards.

"I guess so." said Stan, wondering why this man was so strange.

"It all started about six years ago, I was working as the clerk for a general store, just like you. One day, a group of college students came in. They were of a fraternity, all inebriated. They were rowdy, belligerent and loud. I refused them service and they called the manager, who told me I was to serve everybody. I stated my reasons, trying not to argue. But ultimately, I ended up being fired, just as you were. There were no other establishments needing employees, leaving me unemployed and unable to pay the bills. If I had a family, which I don't, but if I did, they would have left me. So I decided so seek revenge on the drunken frat boys who had cost me my job. They were of the Grauff Community College and were the most infamous fraternity there was, the Alpha-Beta-Gamma house. Oh, how unfair it was. I did not try to kill them, I simply decided to teach them a lesson. But things went wrong and I ended up wrongly arrested. But I managed to survive in prison. Avoided everyone, stayed away from the gangs. And got out early, for good behavior. They asked me if I was rehabilitated and, since I wasn't even a criminal, I was. So I was released. But I decided to let it go and I got a new job. They assigned me the only position here they had open, manager of this fine establishment. And so, her I am." Natas' story seemed legit, but there were parts he secretly left out.

Stan, being with the government, had seen the file of this man the day of his incarceration. He knew exactly what Natas was hiding and he wasn't going to fall for it.

For the truth is, Orgilep Natas was, and still is, a serial killer. It was thought he had been rehabilitated, but, in actuality, he killed all the prison guards and stole a pistol from the corpse of one of the guards. Then, he held the warden at gunpoint and forced him to let him go free and say that he was rehabilitated, threatening to kill him if he ever told anyone. The warden, in fear of his life, never told anyone what really happened that day and everyone believed that Natas had changed. But the tapes from the security cameras revealed otherwise, showing what had really happened that day. The C.I.A. got ahold of this tape, but didn't announce it to the public, fearing the media would overreact and warden would have attention drawn to him. And if that happened, Natas would make good on his threat and kill the warden. Then the prison would have to find a new warden, but the only other person who was qualified was a former criminal, who had also been let out, but feigned being redhabilitated. It was thought that he would let all the prisoners free if he were to be the new warden, whether this was true or not. So everyone did whatever they could to keep the current warden alive at all costs. And Natas took advantage of this, now pretending to be a normal civillian. But the C.I.A. still knew of this, including Stan.

But Stan decided to play along and not provoke him, for there was a high chance that Natas was carrying a concealed weapon. "That's quite an interesting story, long too."

"Indeed, that's how you know it's true."

"Yeah..." Stan seemed to drift off, but then snapped back. "So, what do I do first?"

"Oh, just do...whatever it is you did before my arrival."

"Okay, sir."

"And, if you happen to require my assistance, I'll be in the manager's room. Please do knock before entering."

"I'll be sure to."

A wicked smile was on Natas' face. "Good, good."

Natas went to the manager's room and closed the door and Stan went to his post at the cash register and, for a while, everything seemed to be normal. But Stan was still suspicious.

Every so often, muffled screams could be heard coming from the manager's room, usually during the time Stan's breaks or after Stan's work hours were over. They were screams of terror and Stan came up with the conclusion that he was secretly murdering people in his office, but he needed proof and wasn't allowed back there without permission. Natas never permitted Stan to enter his office, or anyone else for that matter. He always seemed quick to act on it, too. Always slamming the door quickly when entering or exiting the room and quick to cover the windows or close the door.

Gunshots were never heard, but the screams seemed to indicate torture and/or slow, painful deaths. Such deaths were most likely done by knife or by hand, thus meaning Natas was one for close-hand combat. And Stan could have the advantage with his gun. He had his old one taken away, but recently and secretly stole one of them from the robbers he had arrested, keeping it hidden.

And so, when given the perfect chance, he use the gun to his advantage. Pssibly making Natas surrender so the police could arrive, but if bad came to worse it could be used to incapacitate or even kill Natas. But it would all be in the name of the C.I.A. and maybe even earn Stan his job back.

So Stan waited and waited, but the chance never came.

But Stan didn't know that Natas knew of his suspicion and Natas was gettng paranoid, seeing as Stan was with the C.I.A. there was no doubt he knew, especially with all the screams and the way Stan acted around him. Something had to be done.

So one fateful day, Natas called Stan into his office.

* * *

Stan entered the office and immediately knew Natas planned on killing him. The office had numerous blood stains on the walls and on the floor. There were some indents, like from stabs or scratches, showing signs of struggle and indicating that Natas was a particularly ruthless killer.

Stan gulped. '_I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die._' he thought, but then he remembered in his suitcase was the gun he had. "May I go and grab my suitcase, sir?"

"Fine, fine. Not that it will help you prolong your inevitable death." Natas said, chuckling evilly to himself.

Stan quickly rushed out, grabbed his suitcase and rushed back in.

"Whoa, slow down. What's the hurry, Mr. Smith?" Natas inquired, an evil smirk upon his face.

"Something a little take-you-to-jaily, Orgilep Natas!" Stan quickly opened the suitcase and ook out his gun, aiming it directly at Natas' head. "One wrong move and I'll blow your brains out."

"Like I'm scared of you, you're obviously inferior. Why else would you have been fired from the C.I.A.?"

"I just made one miscalculation, just like you did."

"What are you talking about? I've made no miscalcu-"

His sentence was interrupted by a loud "**BANG!**"

But Stan didn't shoot Natas in the head, he shot his leg, causing the injured Natas to lose his balance and fall. Now that Natas was floored, Stan quickly dialed 911. While the police were on their way, Stan kept Natas on the ground with a single foot. Natas struggled to get up, but couldn't. He was too light and too weak to escape the mighty foot of Stan Smith.

The police arrived in a half-hour or so and arrested Natas, no questions asked about the bullet-wounds. They only wanted Stan to explain how he found out Natas was still a criminal.

All C.I.A. agents received a single copy of the security tape showing Natas' slaughtering of the prison guards and threatening the warden at gunpoint and when Stan was fired he managed to hide his. He always kept his copy locked up at home, where no one but him could get to it. But after having Natas as a boss for a few days and growing very suspicious, Stan moved his copy of the tape to inside his suitcase. He foresaw this very situation. So he quickly grabbed the tape and lead the officers to the store's television. Stan put in the tape and played it, the officers immediately learning the truth about Natas.

"Wow, that's amazing." one officer said to Stan.

"Yes, but you can't let anyone outside the prison know." Stan told them. "And you must place him in the highest level of security you have, or he'll try to kill the warden and the warden that would be hired after the death of the current one is a criminal himself. And he would release the prisoners."

"Oh my, that's awful." the officer said, then he quickly turned his attention to Natas. "You're going behind bars and you a'int never getting' out, you hear?"

"Go to hell." Natas spat.

"Alright buddy, that's it. Johnson, get the tazer."

"Right." the second officer said, then he grabbed a tazer from the back of the police car and handed to the first officer.

"Thanks." the first one said and then tazed Natas until he stopped talking.

Then they roughly threw Natas in the back of the car and drove away.

* * *

The next day at dinner, Stan received a phone call from Deputy Director Bullock.

"I heard about your recent exploitations, Smith." Bullock said.

"Um, yeah?" Stan said, frightened he would be in even more trouble for shooting Natas.

"And, I have to say, I'm most proud of you. Good show, old boy."

"Th-Thank you, sir."

"And I've decided to give you your old job back. As long as you don't screw up again."

"I won't sir, promise."

"That's good, report for duty tomorrow."

"I will."

And he hung up the phone.

"So?" Francine asked.

"Good news." Stan began. "I got my old job back!"

Francine screamed loudly, happy for her husband. Although she unknowingly just interrupted dinner. "Sorry." she said as everyone gave her stares. "It's just that there's great news."

"Stan got his job back, we heard, we heard." said Klaus.

"Shut up, Klaus. Anyway, Stan got his job back." Francine announced to everyone.

"We know, Franiel. We just heard him a minute ago saying that." Roger explained.

"Oh, okay." Francine sat down and pulled Stan's seat back out, Stan sat back down and they finished their dinner.

* * *

The next day, Stan got his old job back, all his old C.I.A. things and his old desk. And life for the Smith family couldn't be better. Well, except for Klaus at least.

* * *

There, that's the end. I personally liked it, a lot of character development in it. Everyone seemed in character for the most part, too. Natas may make a reappearance as well. And, until then, here are some facts about Natas: He's not only a serial killer, he also has demonic powers that he doesn't use unless he needs to (so as to not draw unneccesary attention to himself). He is allergic to sunlight and when over-exposed to it, he will combust. His height is about 7'3'' and he weighs about 135 Lbs. He prefers melee weapons over traditional firearms and also enjoys tortoring his victims before killing them in a slow, horrible and inhumane way. He can dish out and take much more punishment than a normal human being. He is on par with Albert Wesker in terms of deadliness. He can manipulate certain living beings to an extent. He has lightning fast reflexes and can dodge attacks as long as he is expecting them, but cannot dodge what he doesn't expect. He is unpredictable in battle. And finally, he is an evil genius with an I.Q. of about 173 and can escape from just about any prison.


End file.
